


guilty mouths -

by dovbt (orphan_account)



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, How Do I Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7517257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/dovbt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for my best friend, confidant, and one beautiful goddess of a human being. here's part one of your birthday gift. part two's coming soon.</p><p>(i love you more than words could say; you constantly manage to impress me with your wisdom, beauty, honesty, and trustworthiness, among many other things that i couldn't put down in this box with such a limited amount of space. thank you for being there for me always. i can't express how thankful i am to have you, and how lucky i am that you've decided to stick around with a loser like me. you're crazy perfect. thank you.)</p>
    </blockquote>





	guilty mouths -

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HippieRyden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippieRyden/gifts).



> for my best friend, confidant, and one beautiful goddess of a human being. here's part one of your birthday gift. part two's coming soon.
> 
> (i love you more than words could say; you constantly manage to impress me with your wisdom, beauty, honesty, and trustworthiness, among many other things that i couldn't put down in this box with such a limited amount of space. thank you for being there for me always. i can't express how thankful i am to have you, and how lucky i am that you've decided to stick around with a loser like me. you're crazy perfect. thank you.)

there’s still something so surreal about performing in front of hundreds, thousands of people nearly every night of his life.

his shaking hands hold a microphone in front of his face and he’s saying words so fast he can barely hear himself, swaying on top of a piano that is so beat-up from six years of being jumped on and off of that it could literally fall apart at the seams at any given second – and there’s thousands of people laid out in front of him in an arena, hands stretched out to the sky, hands stretched out to _him_ , lips parted as they sing the same words just as fast as he is and it’s _surreal_.

he’s been doing this for six years, he’s been playing shows for six years, but sometimes, tyler still wakes up on a moving tour bus with his best friend snoring above his head and he thinks oh, god, this is _real_. it’s like he’s been having a dream for six years, like he’s waking up for the first time from a deep sleep, like he can’t believe it’s ever possible that they made it this far; and he can’t, he honest-to-god can’t believe that they broke out of the local music scene of columbus and made it half-way across the world and back numerous times in six years. it’s terrifying and blessedly amazing all at once and he can’t breathe suddenly, tripping over his words, and if anyone notices his stuttering in the middle of his own show, the screams the thousand people they’ve collected in one room have been giving all night don’t show any difference.

trees is different this night. the platform is shaking underfoot, like it always does, and it never fails to send tyler’s heart leaping into his throat, never fails to make his knees shake in fear of plummeting into the swarming crowd below. he makes sure his feet are planted firmly before he raises the drumstick above his head, a signal – and he makes eye contact with josh. josh, body illuminated by the glow of the spotlights like he’s an angel cast down from heaven above, standing with one drumstick raised in the air just like tyler. and for a moment, when their eyes meet, the world around them disappears into oblivion.

it’s just them. they’re on separate platforms that seem oceans apart, but they feel closer than they ever have before; the crowd disappears, the screaming and shouting and crying disappears, and all that greets tyler’s ears is silence. it’s just them on their platforms, looking at each other with heaving chests and bodies shaking with adrenaline, and a mutual feeling crashes into them both at once like tidal waves rushing to meet the shore. this is _real_ , this is _happening_ , they’ve _made_ it. they’ve travelled half-way across the world in search of moments like this, seeking out lives to save while the music they’ve made helped to save their own.

and then, the screaming begins, cheering erupts throughout the arena and the crowd is pulsating below their feet and the platform is shaking and his entire body is quivering. he signals to josh, and josh nods, and they’re both crouch in unison – the screaming grows louder, and they’re hammering out drumbeats committed to memory six years before when they were playing to crowds of tens and twenties as opposed to thousands. if his drumbeat wasn’t memorized, perfectly synchronized with josh’s, the drumstick would’ve slipped from his hands to disappear into the crowd below; the only thing that’s keeping him grounded is his pulse racing in his ears, the people cheering underneath him as if they’ve witnessed something magical (and maybe they had, that’s what they’re here for), the sight of josh on a platform ten feet away pounding out the same beat. they are one, a single unit working together to create something that will never be forgotten in the minds of the thousand people gathered there to see them perform.

his hand is aching from how hard he’d been clutching the drumstick so as to not drop it back onstage; confetti sticks to his sweaty, shirtless body, and tears have gathered in his eyes by the time he throws a damp arm around josh’s shoulders. josh is smiling, the biggest smile tyler’s ever seen on his face, josh is laughing, and tyler can’t hear it over the sound of the crowd crying out their names but it’s a sound he’s committed to memory just like the drumbeat he memorized for trees. it plays in his head like a mantra as they stand, panting, chests heaving for heady air that will hardly reach their lungs, and tyler raises the microphone to his mouth at the same instant josh raises the arm not wrapped around tyler’s torso in the air above his head.

tyler’s eyes scan the audience, addressing every one of them, committing this memory to his mind as something he’ll never forget, nestled close to the memory of the drumbeat for trees and the memory of josh’s laughter.

he clears his throat into the mic, and the cheering dies down some, just enough for him to say, _“we’re twenty one pilots, and so are you.”_

the night passes in a blink. the audience of a thousand and some odd number files out, confetti and sweat stuck to their clothes, rambling in small groups about what a show it was.

it rains while they pack the set up – it’s a back and forth run from the arena to the trailers for thirty minutes while trying to shelter as much of the equipment as they can, and by the time everything’s loaded and packed up, tyler’s soaked to the bone. he’s only wearing jeans that are stuck to his skin and a tank-top, and he’s freezing, can’t stop shivering as he makes his way to the tour bus by himself to wait for the rest of the crew to load up.

he can’t remember if it’s a hotel night or not through the fog in his head; the scraping of bolts and metal as he slides open the bus door only stirs his thoughts more, and he can feel the beginning of a migraine creeping along the edges of his mind. he exhales heavily, closes the door behind him, and collapses backwards onto the nearest surface he can find – the couch. he curls up into a ball, still shivering but too tired to change out of his wet clothes. all of his bones are echoing the same ache of exhaustion, his head beginning to pound.

his eyelids flutter, and he allows them to slide shut; they move like they’re weighted down, and he falls asleep, wet clothes and all, in what feels like an instant.

he dreams of the show they played. but instead of being on separate platforms, they’re together like they used to play six years previous; their backs are pressed together, moving as one unit, and they’re hammering away the same drumbeat they’ll play six years later to an audience of thousands as opposed to the fifteen that they once faced. the crowd cheers, it’s defeaning, and they’re back on stage, arms around each other, but something’s different. josh is closer than he’s ever been, so close, his smile is inches away from tyler’s own, he’s leaning in, he’s so close –

and something is shaking him, something is calling his name.

the something shaking him is a hand on his shoulder, the voice is vaguely familiar, but tyler’s tired brain doesn’t catch on until he creaks open his eyes. he finds josh’s face only mere inches away from his own, his hand pressed into his shoulder. his smile is so bright in the dimness of the bus that it’s blinding.

josh’s hair is wet, plastered to his forehead, and tyler wants to ask why he spent so long in the rain – all that he gets across is a tired grunt, and josh laughs. his breath smells like mint toothpaste.

“come on,” he says, shaking tyler gently again.

“where are we going?” tyler asks, still disoriented from his dream. josh is so close.

josh raises an eyebrow, but he’s still smiling, his hand still on tyler’s shoulder. he emanates warmth, and tyler wants to shove closer, pull him tight against him and suck up his heat. “hotel night?” he says, but it comes across as a question, as if he’s asking tyler if he remembers. he doesn’t.

“hotel night,” tyler says drowsily.

“hotel night,” josh repeats, trying to jog his memory. it works, but only barely, and josh is straightening out, his face no longer _close_ and tyler is disappointed. “come on. i already brought our stuff up.”

the wet clothes plastered to his skin make it hard to move, but he manages to pull himself into a sitting position; his damp skin sticks to the leather of the couch, pries free with a sucking sound. his world spins in slow circles when he hauls himself to his feet, following josh off the bus and into the parking lot. it’s still raining, warm and wet and tyler shivers as he stands under the spray cascading down on their heads, watching josh close the bus door behind them; his hair is pink like roses in the distant glow of the lights of the hotel, face flushed the same shade when he turns to look at tyler. his smile is big, bright, and tyler can’t explain why he wants it pressed as close as it was in the dream.

except for he can, because he knows _why_ he’s been having all these thoughts and dreams about his best friend, all this wanting him to be closer and closer, and it wasn’t ever just for the sake of leeching heat – he just chooses to push it away, chooses to ignore the rampage in his head like he has been for six years. he could do it for six more, if he really had to; and then josh comes closer, standing in the rain next to him, and his lips form tyler’s name and his voice is soft and curious with underlying worry (because he always worries about tyler and tyler’s always worried about him) and tyler knows he couldn’t push these thoughts down for the next six seconds if he had to. they come back full-force the second he tries to swallow them down and he chokes on them as if they’ll all bubble to the surface and spill from his mouth like a broken geyser.

“tyler,” josh says again, and he’s so close; he’s so warm when he brings his hand up to meet tyler’s waist. he squeezes once, and tyler is enamored and wants more of his touch, curls his hand over josh’s and holds him in place so he can’t leave. he’s about to question everything, tyler can tell, because josh isn’t one to _not_ ask questions, never has been – he’s about to ask what’s wrong, if he can do anything, and tyler gets so worked up with not having answers that he audibly shushes him.

he’s never seen josh look so confused and it’d be a little heartbreaking if tyler’s own heart wasn’t threatening to beat right out of his chest; he’s confused, too, confused because everything he’s been trying to hide is going to burst out of him at any second if he doesn’t get what he wants for once in his goddamned life, confused because all he wants is josh. in any shape, in any form, at any given time, all he wants is josh.

“i want you,” he whispers without thinking, surges forward and attaches his hands to the collar of his t-shirt like it’s the only thing grounding him to earth (god knows that it probably is); he still isn’t thinking when he pulls josh close by the collar like he’s wanted to for six fucking years, isn’t thinking when he smashes their lips together and their noses bump and josh’s eyes are blown wide with surprise and maybe shock.

the thinking begins to kick in the second he realizes that josh is kissing back.

he couldn’t care less about the rain beating down on their heads, couldn’t care less about the fact that they’re both going to catch colds and spend the next three days wrapped up in the same bed, wrapped up in each other, trying to fight off their own chills; all that matters is that josh is kissing back like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, that josh’s teeth are dragging against his bottom lip, that josh’s hands are gripping at his waist underneath his tank top hard enough to leave bruises. tyler knows he’ll have to not take off his shirt for the next couple of days just based on how hard josh is grabbing at his hips, but it’s another thing to add to the list of things he couldn’t care less about.

especially when he’s backing josh up against the van, sliding his knee between josh’s thighs – he gasps, immediately moving to grind down, clawing at tyler’s hips. the only thing he cares about is committing to memory every individual sound josh makes in the back of his throat when their lips press against one another, what he tastes like (mint toothpaste), the feel of their lips sliding together. they don’t break apart until tyler’s lungs are screaming for air, feeling like they’re on fire, and it’s a regretful few seconds as they catch their breaths before diving back into one another. it’s nothing like the first kiss tyler had ever imagined with him, but it’s wholly better, especially when josh gets in a good rock against his knee and keens into his mouth.

tyler tugs back to catch his breath, both of them panting heavily as josh nestles his forehead against tyler’s shoulder. “jeez,” he mutters, and tyler snorts, relaxing his grip on his collar and smoothing both his hands over his shoulders and down his arms, stopping to hold his wrists. still panting, he groans, “give a boy some warning next time.”

he laughs, and tyler can feel it reverberate through his wet skin all the way to his heart; josh’s smile is pressed against his neck, and it’s the happiest he’s ever been. “nah,” he says, moving his hands from josh’s hips to cup his face. he tilts his chin up, and josh’s eyes sparkle, mouth turned up in a tiny, barely-there smile. but tyler sees it, presses his own against it, drinks up the muffled noise josh makes in surprise at being kissed. it’s less heavy than the last, but still holds the same spark, carries the same fire.

the fire is reflected in josh’s eyes when they separate, wrapped in honey-gold but refusing to be smothered out; he licks his lips, and tyler groans internally, fights the urge to palm his steadily growing erection through his jeans. he wants josh on his back, on his knees, on all fours, any way he can get him.

“still want me?” josh asks, licks his lips again. he’s nervous, tyler can tell, as if tyler suddenly would have changed his mind somewhere between the first kiss and the last.

but tyler wouldn’t change his mind, has wanted josh from the moment he laid eyes on him, sweaty and shaking with exhilaration, and he suffocates josh’s nervousness with his mouth. their tongues tangle, teeth click together, and josh moans, grinding upwards against tyler’s knee trapped between the iron prison his thighs have made; and yes, tyler’s sure he wants him, wants him more than he’s wanting anything else in the world.

“never wanted anything more,” tyler tugs back to breathe, more honest than he’s ever been in his entire life, kisses him again and again and again until they both can’t get enough air to their lungs.

“hotel room,” josh gasps. “need you, i need you –“

he doesn’t get much else out before tyler’s wrapping a hand around his wrist and tugging him through the pouring rain to the hotel lobby; josh worries about being seen by someone, especially when they’re both as hard as they are, but tyler squeezes his hand and every thought he has flees like wildfire. all he can focus on is tyler dragging him through the hotel’s doors and through the lobby, all the way to the elevator; he asks what floor, and josh barely spits out ‘fourth’ before tyler frantically slams a button down.

the doors close, but tyler’s already backed josh into the corner, shoved him against the wall by his hips and reattached their lips; it’s a wet kiss, fast and hectic with too much teeth and not enough tongue, and josh’s hand finds home in tyler’s hair. he pulls, and electricity shoots down his spine when tyler groans into his mouth, and he pulls again, helplessly bucking his hips into tyler’s at the noise he manages to coerce from his mouth.

“tease,” tyler grumbles against his lips, and josh weakly laughs, sound swallowed up by tyler pressing their lips together once more; the elevator clicks to a halt at the fourth floor, and it’s the past few minutes on repeat, tyler tugging him down the curving hall by his wrist. “what door?”

josh mumbles 413, and tyler’s eyes glance over door numbers wildly until they land on 413, pulling josh along and steering him along the corridor. “do you have the keycard?” he asks, voice rough, and josh produces it from his pocket with shaking hands, laughing unsteadily at how quick tyler grabs it from between his fingertips.

the door is open in a second, and josh would be surprised at how quickly he managed to open it if he wasn’t suddenly being pushed into the room; the door slams shut, lights flare on like floodlights, and josh is caught in a brief moment of limbo before the world begins moving again.

the world spins at every move tyler makes; his hands are on josh’s shoulders, his waist, his hips, finally gripping his ass and pulling him closer, shoving their groins together. josh lets slip a moan and slides his hands back into tyler’s hair, threading his fingers through as tyler pushes their lips together. it’s a little more coordinated than the one in the elevator, but just as messy; their teeth still click together before they find some sort of a hazardous rhythm, tyler sucking on the tip of his tongue as he works his hands over josh’s ass.

“ty,” josh gasps, severing their connection, and tyler merely hums, dipping his head to work on josh’s throat; he forgets about shows and crowds and publicity and how they’re not explicitly together as purple-red marks begin to blossom over josh’s skin like strawberries, forgets about everything except for how josh sounds when he sucks particularly hard on a spot behind his ear. “mm, ty –“

this time, tyler does stop, keeps his lips pressed tight to josh’s throat, hands wrapped around his ass, as he murmurs an affirmation.

“clothes,” josh groans, scrabbling at tyler’s tank-top and trying to hitch it up over his body but ultimately failing. they’re both soaking wet, water dripping off their bodies with each movement onto the floor, and tyler’s clothes stick to his skin. “off –“

tyler smiles at his loss of function already, excited at the prospect of him writhing on the bed underneath him, unable to say much more than his name; he tugs back, hands fumbling for the hem of josh’s shirt and yanking it up over his head, admiring his frame. he’s seen josh shirtless too many times to count on both hands, but they’re in a more intimate setting, and he’s free to stare as unabashed as he likes for however long he likes.

“beautiful,” tyler mumbles, runs a hand down josh’s front, feels the muscles there tighten when he makes a stunned noise – he stills, eyes moving from josh’s chest to his eyes, eyebrows raised as it dawns on him. “you like to be called beautiful,” he mumbles his observation, a smile slowly taking place on his face. josh sheepishly nods, a flush taking place on his cheeks and throat, rivaling the color of the bruises tyler had been sucking into his skin. tyler clears his throat, licks his lips, smiles before murmuring, “go get on the bed, beautiful.”

josh doesn’t disobey, too far gone to do much other than obey order, turning with shivers racing down his spine; tyler’s hot on his heels as they make their way to the adjoining bedroom, josh settling down amongst the sheets and setting his back up against the headboard, hands twitching by his thighs. he refuses to touch himself, wants this to last as long as it possibly can; it doesn’t feel like a one-time fluke, but he can’t forget a single detail on the off chance that it _is_.

tyler slides off his tank-top, the wet fabric sticking to his skin, and slowly undoes the button on his jeans before sliding them down to his ankles. josh’s breath catches in his throat.

his boxers cling wetly to his skin, doing nothing to obscure the obscene tent he’s sporting; he crawls onto the bed, not bothering to kiss josh but instead moving his hands to his jeans and undoing the button. the sound of his fly being undone interests his dick too much, and he hisses, lifting his hips to assist tyler in yanking off his wet jeans. they’re thrown to the floor, and tyler crawls up the length of his body, weight pressing him against the mattress as they find each other’s lips and slot themselves together; it’s gentle and soft, and tyler moves a hand between where their hips are pressing together to cup josh through his boxers.

“tyler,” josh pulls back to whimper, head sliding back to meet the headboard; tyler strokes up his length, nimble fingers finding the head of his twitching cock and rubbing in slow circles. his knees fall open wider on the bed, and tyler wastes no time in sliding between them, generous palm running over the outline of his cock. “please –“

“how far are we going?” tyler interrupts incidentally, just to make sure; he doesn’t want to go anywhere josh isn’t comfortable, doesn’t want to press him out of his comfort zone accidentally. he’s fine with sloppy handjobs and messy make-outs, writhing around on hotel sheets that smell something like lilac and lavender.

josh keens as tyler rubs his cock slowly, bucks his hips up in a wordless request for something more. “just –“ he grunts, frustrated, eyes sparkling with unshed tears, and the sight alone makes tyler’s dick jolt in his boxers. he tilts his head up to kiss over josh’s cheeks, rubbing his cock as slow as he can manage. “c’mon, please, just –“

a wicked thought crawls into tyler’s head, and before he can stop himself, he’s muttering in a low voice, “you want me to fuck you, joshie?”

his heart leaps up into his throat, surprised at himself and surprised at josh’s reaction; he doesn’t expect josh to respond so eagerly, head thrown back as he frantically nods, words tripping over themselves when he spits, “yes, god, yes, please – i need you –“

“how bad, baby?” tyler asks, emboldened by the positivity of the response; his stroking over josh’s cock grows more languid, and josh writhes desperately underneath his palm.

he barely gets the words out – “s-so much, tyler, please, i need you so bad” – before tyler’s sliding his hand into his boxers and fumbling around, grasping for his dick; he manages to get a hand around it, pumping a short stroke and josh _wails_ , head falling forward to rest on tyler’s shoulder. he lets out a broken sob as  tyler jerks him off slow and sweet, ignoring the tackiness of pre-come as josh begins to leak over his fingers.

“look at you,” tyler murmurs, pressing kisses to the side of josh’s face as he pants into his shoulder. “barely touched you and you’re already all wet.”

josh merely grunts, lifting his hips up to meet tyler’s maddeningly slow pace; he’s incoherently begging, mouthing along tyler’s bare shoulder, but tyler gets the memo and speeds up his work. he has josh in the palm of his hand, literally; he never stops writhing, never stops begging or moaning or panting into tyler’s neck, hot breath washing over tyler’s already overheated skin.

“gotta open you up,” tyler says, slowly pulling to a stop, and josh barely holds onto the wail building in his throat; he’s already so close, he wants more, wants to come over and over and over at tyler’s hand until he can’t remember his own name or see straight.

“please hurry,” he whimpers instead, vaguely aware of how pathetic he sounds, and tyler laughs, bringing their lips back together in a kiss as he helps josh shimmy out of his wet boxers. they’re thrown over tyler’s shoulder to meet the mess on the floor, and josh is naked – completely naked, laid out for tyler’s prying eye, and he’s taking advantage of the fact.

he breathes in deep, lets out a low whistle, and josh can’t help but near-deliriously giggle; tyler smiles, presses their mouths together and soaks up josh’s laughter. he helplessly licks into tyler’s mouth, groaning when he feels tyler’s hand wrapped back around his cock, pumping him slowly.

“you ready?” he pulls away to ask, mouths still inches apart, eyes sparkling as their noses brush together; his smile grows wider when josh nods.

“how d’you want me?” he asks, pressing his forehead to tyler’s

tyler sits back on his heels. “hands and knees,” he requests, but it feels like an order; josh obeys, sliding onto his hands and knees without complaint, sticking his ass out into the air and attempting to ignore the feeling of tyler’s eyes on his bare ass. it doesn’t work.

“beautiful,” tyler comments. josh flushes. “lube?”

josh flushes darker. “in my bag.”

tyler stumbles to his feet, prying off his boxers as he moves to josh’s bag; he rifles through t-shirts and jeans and boxers until he finds a half-empty bottle of lube buried at the bottom of the bag. “someone’s been busy,” he comments, blushing when he realizes that the weird, moan-like noises he’d been hearing in the dead of night might not have been wild animals after all. he crawls back onto the bed, kneeling behind josh and leaning forward to press fleeting kisses to the skin of his back. and then, because he’s burning with curiosity, with his lips pressed to josh’s back, he asks, “what do you think about?”

josh is too far gone to really give a cohesive answer; he grunts, and tyler flickers his eyes up, sees one of his arms working, glances down. he has a hand wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking himself, and heat simmers in tyler’s stomach like fire. “you,” he spits as he thumbs over his head, face melding with the sheets. he repeats it, and tyler grins, nipping at the backs of josh’s thighs just to hear him grunt breathily.

“what am i doing, hm?” tyler teases, uncapping the lube bottle and pouring some into his hands, rolling it over his fingers to warm it up. it’s been a while since he’s been in this position, on his knees with a bottle of lube in hand, but it’s a nice adjustment from what he’s used to.

“fucking me,” josh mutters, turning redder in the face and pressing further into the sheets, attempting to hide; it fails miserably when tyler begins to press against his hole, because he has to turn his face to the side to be able to breathe properly. “oh, _jesus_.”

tyler sinks in the first finger, and josh does nothing more than whimper; he wiggles it around some, and josh’s whimper drags out into a high-pitched whine, pressing back onto tyler’s finger. breathlessly, not even a second in, he gasps for more, and tyler raises an eyebrow but complies. he manages to wiggle in a second – the moan josh lets go off is heavenly, sends more blood rushing to tyler’s cock. “god, you really have been busy,” tyler admits, and josh giggles, pumping his cock harder and moaning into the sheets.

“your fault,” josh grunts, bouncing seamlessly back on his fingers, and tyler merely breathes out a laugh.

“how is it my fault?” he asks, and josh giggles again, completely out of breath.

“you’re just so damn – _ugh_ , right there,” he pants, and tyler crooks his fingers again, and josh yelps.

“i’m so damn what?” tyler pries over the sound josh is making.

“so damn – mm, so damn hot, i can’t help myself,” he quips, slowing his hand around his cock, squeezing the base to keep from coming. “c’mon, i n-need – oh, right _there_ –”

tyler presses up against his prostate, rubbing softly, and josh keens, mouthing the sheets. he slips in another finger, rocking josh on three and dipping his head to press kisses over the backs of his thighs, mingled with hints of scraping teeth that make josh’s muscles jump and the most beautiful noises spill from his lips. he could probably get off just by fucking josh on his fingers for the rest of the night, pressing against his prostate experimentally to get him to cry out, but he knows that the real thing is better. they find a rhythm that works, slow and steady, and josh breathes heavy into the sheets, yelps and babbles and cries when tyler strokes his prostate.

“if you keep doing that,” he warns after tyler happened to rub along it for a little too long, “i’m going to come right now.”

“sorry,” tyler apologizes, a little sheepish; he looks at josh’s face, searching for something, finds only wet eyelashes and cheeks streaked with red. his thrusting is uncharacteristically slow, not matching the atmosphere of the entire evening or even the tension in the room; he wants to make sure he’s not hurting josh, but josh is growing impatient, wants tyler _now_. he holds the base of his cock to keep from coming, keeping his thumb pressed against his aching slit. he’s never been harder. “are you ready?”

“never been more ready,” josh says, truthful. he can’t help himself from wincing when tyler slides his fingers out of him; there’s the shuffle of fabric as tyler shifts around, undoubtedly touching himself to stave off the edge of  his own desparation.

a quiet pause. and then tyler whispers, “i don’t – i don’t have a condom.”

“fuck the condom,” josh replies, eloquent. “just get inside me.”

tyler gives him a stunned look, but shrugs to himself and shuffles back between josh’s thighs; he takes his sweet time in lining up, giving himself a few steady strokes to spread around the rest of the lube on his hand as the tip of his cock rubs against josh’s entrance. josh mewls, gently, releasing the grip he has on his own dick to grab at the sheets; tyler reaches for josh’s hips and holds him in place before beginning to press into him; sinking in at careful half-inches at a time, tyler focuses on anything but the feeling of josh stretching around him – josh sucking down heavy breath after breath, his hands tightening in the sheets until they’re white at the knuckles, groaning when tyler finally bottoms out. their hips press together, and tyler’s head swims deliriously until he can’t see straight.

“flip me over,” josh requests before tyler can begin to move, wriggling around, and the sensation has stars exploding behind tyler’s closed eyelids. “i wanna – wanna see you.”

“yeah, yeah,” tyler gets out, mind fried, before helping to assist josh onto his back; they separate for all of two seconds, grabbing at hips and shoulders and arms in an attempt to get back together. finally, josh’s legs wrap around tyler’s waist, and tyler’s able to line back up, able to sink himself back into josh. it’s an unbelievable sensation, some sort of intimacy neither of them have experienced with the other; josh’s hands rest of tyler’s shouders, wrap around the back of his neck and tug him down into an open-mouthed kiss.

tyler hums into it, and josh smiles, and their lips slide together clumsily as tyler begins to move; he is careful, he is considerate, barely rocking his hips back and forth, but josh’s nails dig into the skin of his shoulders and he moans into tyler’s ear as if it’s the last thing on earth he’ll do, as if he’s being fucked into oblivion and back.

“you’re so pretty,” tyler gasps as their hips press together, dips his head to suck more blossoms into his throat. josh angles his chin up toward the ceiling, hands all over tyler’s back but mostly touching his shoulders, rocking down to meet his every thrust; he can barely get out a hoarse thank you, but he manages, and tyler smiles as he bites down into his skin. he tastes the iron of blood, hears the edge of a moan as he thrusts into him, hips moving with every purpose of making josh feel good – and he does, he feels unbelievably good, stuffed to the brim and fuller than he’s ever been.

it doesn’t feel just like they’re simply fucking, like they’re simply two sweaty bodies rolled into one; it’s intimate in ways that tyler’s never experienced, more beautiful of a thing than josh has ever felt, and they aren’t fucking. tyler hates saying it, and josh thinks it’s cliché and overdone, but they’re making love – they’re in love, have been in love without realizing it, are making love right there in the hotel sheets that smell something of lilac and lavender. tyler thrusts, and josh gasps, and tyler manages to get a hand between their waists and touch josh’s cock.

josh groans, and tyler grinds his palm down against him, wraps pre-come slick fingers around his base and tugs upward in a fluid motion; he barely gets out a cry of tyler’s name, something broken and weak, before his back is arching and his toes are curling and he’s spilling all over his own stomach. tyler’s thrusting doesn’t stop when he comes, erratic and manic and frantic, and josh pulls his hair and bites his throat and licks over wounds until his hips stutter and he buries his face in josh’s neck and cries and comes inside him.

coming down could take seconds, minutes, years. tyler doesn’t pull out for a long, long while. he kisses over the bruises he’s left with teeth and tongue embedded into josh’s skin and he whispers, “let’s stay here for a bit.”

and josh doesn’t disagree; the intimacy he’s having now, his legs wrapped around tyler’s waist and his hands in his hair, is something he’s never experienced. even when his body dully aches with pain and every muscle is screaming to get tyler away from him, out of him, he doesn’t; they collide in another open-mouthed kiss, panting and tongues tangling, and they stay together as one.

seconds tick into minutes, and finally, tyler tugs away and pulls out, collapsing onto josh’s chest. their bodies ache with exertion, but it’s a good kind of ache, the kind of ache that reminds them they’ll be sore tomorrow; and josh has never been more thankful for soreness and bruises and aching, because soreness and bruises and aching mean he’ll have something to look at tomorrow, to remember. memories.

“you’re so good to me,” josh whispers into the hot air, into tyler’s ear, and he can feel tyler’s smile quirking up against his neck. “how’d i get so lucky?”

“i’ve been asking myself the same thing,” tyler admits, rubbing circles into josh’s hips, over the bruises his hands have left; he makes a mental note to get his face down there between his legs as soon as he possibly can, press kisses over every strawberry blossom he made on this boy’s body. his boy’s body. he licks at a still-bleeding mark on the side of josh’s throat, and he sighs breathily, leans into the touch of lips on his skin. “does this mean if i ask you out, you’ll say yes?”

“yes, you dork,” josh laughs, and his giggling melts tyler’s heart even further. “is it a bad time to tell you i love you?”

“no. it’s never a bad time,” tyler decides. “i love you, too.”

later that night, tyler cleans josh’s stomach up with a warm washcloth with such tenderness and affection that it makes josh cry; tyler kisses away his tears and whispers that he loves him, and josh knows he’s in love.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr - **joshseph**


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